


help

by gi09



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester Uses Actual Words, Domestic Fluff, Domesticity in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Fluff, Grocery Shopping, Laundry, M/M, Season/Series 14, Washing the Impala (Supernatural), all it is really, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:19:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25954354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gi09/pseuds/gi09
Summary: Dean keeps busy in the bunker; Cas helps.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 60





	help

_the laundry room -_

Dean simply cannot sit around all day, not since Michael, not since they’ve turned the bunker into a shelter for hunters from another world, not since his brother is working his ass off day and night. He is not into the whole hunter network thing, but he knows that it’s a good thing, it’s the right thing.

Only, he can’t sit around all day, so he keeps busy, trying at the same time to stay as much as possible away from all the others. He doesn’t need their eyes on him. They are respectful and kind, but Dean knows. Dean knows that deep down they are asking themselves _how could he_ , after seeing what Michael did to their world – _how could he_ , and since he could, _what is wrong with him_ , _what is he hiding_ , _can he really be trusted_?

Dean doesn’t want to think about that, so he stays away. He puts himself in charge of all the things that need to run smoothly in the background to make sure the hunters don’t need anything. He fixes pipes in some bathrooms, air vents in some bedrooms, opens up some more rooms to accommodate researchers and nappers alike.

He runs into Cas in the hallway one afternoon as he’s going to the laundry room. They almost crash into each other, but they both take a step back just in time. Cas says “Dean” as if he was looking for him, and studies his face for a long moment as if he’s able to check the history of his facial expressions of the last few days, those he wasn’t around to see, as Sam had sent him to meet Claire somewhere to take down a nest of vamps.

“Hey, you’re back. How did it go with Claire?”

Cas’ face immediately softens at her name. “Surprisingly well. As you know she -”

Dean interrupts him and motions to follow him “Talk and walk, there’s something I need to do.”

So Cas trails after him to the laundry room and keeps talking as Dean reaches the first dryer on their left, takes out the fresh load to dump it in a pile over a counter and checks the other cycle that’s still going in the second dryer. He keeps talking as Dean grabs an empty basket form a corner and puts it in front of him on a stool and one after the other, starts neatly folding towels and kitchen rags. Pinch the corners, fold once in a rectangle, turn to the side, fold again in a square, done, into the basket.

Dean likes doing laundry. Not exactly the time he spends collecting dirty clothes from dirty hunters that understandably - after years of living in an apocalypse and in a constant fight and flight mode - didn’t prioritize washing their clothes regularly; and not really the part when he has to grab handfuls of wet, blood smeared, smelly towels to dump them in the washing machine, but he likes _this_ part a lot. When everything comes out new, neat, clean. Whatever goes in, no matter how bad it is, comes out reborn.

And he likes how the smell of the softener fills the room, likes the warmth fabrics under his fingertips and how quiet his head gets as he does the same movements over and over again, once, twice, three times. In there, he can’t get it wrong. He never gets it wrong.

Cas takes in the surroundings, as he does when he enters every place and then he gets closer. He is still talking.

“…I think she’s grown a lot. She misses Jody and Alex, I can tell, but I think she found her balance. I may be worried about her but I’m happy that -”

As soon as he approaches the basket Dean unceremoniously throws a kitchen rag at him. Cas catches it but stops talking and looks at him confused.

Dean shurgs. “You could help.”

Cas is dumbfounded for a moment. He looks down at the striped rag in his hands like he has never held one before.

He seems about to talk then he settles for a: “Um -”

Finally he looks at Dean intently and replicates his moves. Fold, rectangle, side, fold, square, done, basket.

“As I was saying” he starts again, as he dubiously picks up another kitchen rag from the unfolded pile, this one with white daisies embroidered on the hem, “now that Sam is mostly the one who passes hunts onto her, I’m glad that we can direct her towards things that are not as dangerous as they could be. I know that when you were her age you were thrown in all sorts of situations, but you had your father, and then you had Sam. She is alone and -”

He picks it up pretty easily and soon enough a rhythm has settled between them. Their hands don’t reach for the same piece of laundry anymore and Cas interrupts himself and loses his thread of thought more than once as he focuses on his task. Then he moves to fetch another basket, takes the kitchen rags pile away from the bathroom towels and keeps going.

“Have you asked her if she wants to come here? Be part of the Lebanon squad?”

Cas shakes his head, “She values greatly her independence. I suggested the idea of a hunting partner but she is not interested in that either.”

The kitchen rags are all gone and there’s a moment of silence. Castiel rests his hands on the edge of the basket and looks up as Dean folds the last of the bathroom towels. 

“She is still thinking about Kaia” he adds with a tinge of a sadness in his tone.

Dean catches his eyes and nods in understanding. “Yeah, I figured.”

Then the dryer at his right beeps and Dean moves to take out the new load and drop it where the first one just disappeared. Castiel looks at it with a frown like it personally offended him.

This time Dean doesn’t need to say anything before he moves to resume his task. Silence falls upon them. Dean sneaks looks at Castiel as he works. He looks at his hands, strong and efficient but careful, as gentle as they can be as they hold something that is not lethal, pointy or dangerous in any way. 

Dean has to admit that it’s an endearing sight. He looks at his sturdy frame, his messy hair, what he can see of his features from this angle, as he keeps his head low and his actions meticulous. It’s just – _nice_ to share that space with him doing such a mundane task. It’s like seeing him under a different light.

Dean catches himself smiling dumbly right when Sam passes by the door. He instinctively raises a hand towards Dean as a greeting, then does a double take when his eyes register Castiel. He makes a disbelieving face at Dean behind Cas’ back and Dean just shrugs in response. They share a smile as Sam walks away.

Then the second pile is also done and they carry their baskets down the hallway; stop at the linen closet where Dean stuffs in the bathroom towels, and then they go towards the kitchen where Cas dumps the content of the kitchen rags basket.

He turns to face Dean “What else?” he asks matter-of-factly.

Dean huffs a laugh and slaps his back. “We’re done, Cinderella. Good job though. Did you have fun?”

“It wasn’t unpleasant.”

“Yeah? This was the easy stuff. I’ll have you fold sheets and sofa covers, we’ll see what you think then.”

*

_the kitchen -_

Dean dumps the groceries on the kitchen table with a sigh right when Castiel pokes his head in.

“Hey, where’s Jack?” asks Dean. “He was supposed to help me with this” he says gesturing towards the overflowing bags.

It took him three hours to get everything from the store. Even when they had enough money, he and Sam never really were the kind of people that bought a lot of food. They had no place to store it first of all, and even when they first got to the bunker, they never knew for how long they would stay away, hunt after hunt.

But time had changed a few things and Jack had changed a lot of other things. Packing long shelf life items, experimenting with flavours to teach him and show him, working through their supply at the speed of light were just a few of these things. They spend a lot more time at home and Dean for the first time in his life is not in a rush anymore when he goes to buy something. He takes his time, does his maths, ponders his choices, has favourite things now – not just chips and beef jerky, but things like favourite kind of pasta sauce - and he likes it.

“Still training with Bobby. Can _I_ help you?” Cas asks taking a step forward.

Dean shrugs “If you want”, he says, but he looks more cheerful as he grabs the yogurt from the top of the closest bag and goes over one of the mini fridges. He looks back. “Pass me the things that go in here first”.

So Castiel goes from bag to bag for items that need to be refrigerated looking like a bee flying from flower to flower.

“This is a lot of food.” He says as he selects and passes on.

“Yeah, well, I wanted to make sure we had enough for a while.” Dean says as they meet in the middle of the room and Castiel hands him a pile of trays of different kinds of meat.

They keep going, settling into their roles. Castiel takes out the items from the bags and arranges them neatly for types on the table and Dean moves through the kitchen to put them back in their designated places.

The kitchen has plenty of storing space. Sam has organized everything in a way that he thinks is the most practical, so now they have things like a spice cupboard and a candy and chocolate drawer. Dean likes that.

Castiel on the other hand has not really familiarized with the space yet. He knows only where the basic stuff is: the coffee, the cups, the glasses, the beers. He knows where they keep their cutlery. So when there’s nothing more to take out of the bags and he tries to be helpful, he ends up opening cupboard after cupboard and then looking at Dean to ask “Where do these go?”

Dean snatches the instant noodles from his hands. “Away from Sam,” he says holding the little plastic cups against his chest like they are puppies. “He won’t ever make me hear the end of it.”

Castiel huffs a laugh. “I have seen nothing then,” he promises as he goes back to the last items on the table.

“Where’s Krunch Cookie Crunch?” he asks then and Dean stops in his track in the middle of the room to turn on his heels and look at him in disbelief.

“Excuse me?”

“The cereals. For Jack” he explains.

Dean feels a smile growing on his lips. “Oh, right.” He shakes his head. “It must be in there somewhere. It was the blue box, right?”

Castiel holds up the only blue box of cereals on the table. It has a cartoon version of a white haired official of some kind on the front. “You mean this? This is _Cotton Candy_ Crunch. It’s different” he says affronted, as seriously as if they were talking about matters of life and death.

Dean cannot believe this is a conversation that he’s actually having with an angel of the lord. He tries very hard not to laugh and not sound like he’s making fun of him when he says “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, my bad.” It doesn’t really work.

Castiel is still wearing a frown as he turns the box in his hands and looks at the ingredients. “I suppose Jack will like them anyway. There is a dangerous amount of sugar and chemicals in these as well.”

Dean goes over to him and stops right behind his back to look over his shoulder. Maybe he takes a step or two more than it is necessary because when Cas turns his face on the side to catch his eyes he find himself a little too close “Perhaps is best if we hide this from Sam as well,” he suggests conspiratorially and his breath brushes over Dean’s cheek.

Dean laughs then, puts a hand on his shoulder and says “Yeah, good idea.”

Cas looks at him expectantly for a moment, then frowns slightly and drops his gaze and it takes Dean a beat or two to follow it and realize that Cas is holding out the box for him to take. He was too focused on his face to notice it and when Cas says “Dean?” his eyes go to his lips and it makes things even worse.

Dean clears his throat and takes a step back, snatching away the box and turning his back. He hurries to the designated breakfast cupboard to strategically place it on the far back, behind other bottles and boxes.

“Next time you can tag along and show me the right kind” he says to break the silence, throwing a strained smile over his shoulder.

*

_the garage -_

It’s the middle of the night.

Sam is yawning in the passenger seat and Castiel, who Dean can see form the rear view mirror, seems lost in thought. They decided to skip the stop to the motel and go back to the bunker right after the hunt and although it’s been a long and mostly quiet journey, Dean doesn’t feel tired. He is still fuelled by the adrenaline that has washed over him when he’s found himself way too close for comfort to a set of werewolf’s teeth. It had taken him all he had to shove the werewolf away enough to swing his machete and cut her head off.

He brings the car to a stop and Sam is the first to get out and go towards the trunk to take out the duffels with their clothes and weapons.

He hands one to Dean as he comes out from his side but Dean doesn’t take it.

“Can you bring it in? I’m gonna stay here and wash the blood off the car.”

Sam blinks a few times as if it’s taking some time for him to register what he’s heard. “What? But it’s late. You just drove seven hours straight. Aren’t you tired?”

Dean shrugs and takes off his jacket to shove that in his arms as well. “It’s not gonna take long. I just want to take the worst out of it.”

Sam shifts his gaze towards the blotches of blood on the windshield and the doors, on the windows and the headlights. They had been surprised by the pack during their stake out when they thought they were well hidden in the woods. That was also the reason why they opted out for an extra night in town. The police would have knocked at their door in the morning for sure if they’d parked that bloodied thing out in the open.

“You go” adds Dean reassuringly, knowing that Sam is probably considering staying behind to help him.

“Alright” Sam concedes “I’m gonna grab a shower and get something to eat. I’ll leave you a sandwich in the kitchen, then I’ll head straight to bed.” He yawns again. “I’m exhausted.”

Before he turns around to go his eyes stop somewhere behind Dean. “Cas?” he asks, and Dean remembers then that Cas is there too, just a few steps behind them.

“I’m staying with Dean.”

Sam nods and disappears through the door, leaving the garage in silence.

Dean gets to work, grabs his usual tools, his bucket, his brush, his towel and the car-wash soap. He turns around and Cas is right behind him.

“What should I do?” he asks.

“What?”

“I wanna help.”

“Oh.” Dean considers for a moment the idea of telling him that he doesn’t need help. This is the thing that comes so easily to him he could do it with his eyes closed. But he doesn’t want to turn Cas away.

There was a moment during the hunt when Cas had reached towards him - as he sometimes does - to step in front of him, to face the danger himself and shield Dean from it, but he was intercepted and thrown against the car and before Dean could do anything, that werewolf had jumped him, almost killing him – so it’s like that moment they had, suspended, never completed, left him with a sense of loss and now he wants Cas close. He wants Cas to always be able to reach him.

So he looks down at the items he is holding and he hands him the bucket that Cas promptly steps forward to take and without another word goes to fill in the sink in the corner. Dean walks around the car trying to decide where it would be best to start.

A little soap in the water, an extra brush for Cas and soon enough they are going after the blood smeared on the roof. 

Dean hovers around Cas to make sure he’s being gentle with that brush and doesn’t forget any spot.

Castiel feels his eyes on him. “I’ve washed a car before, you know.” He says, and there’s a playful tone hidden underneath his low voice.

“Have you? When?”

Castiel shrugs, “Cars were around a long time before you were born, Dean. I was there to see it.”

“Well, I still need to make sure. Cause no car is _this_ car. _My_ car.”

Cas rolls his eyes. The water washes away the pinkish suds and Dean towels her off like he himself is a well-oiled machine, making always the same movements, always in the same shapes, with the same kind of towel in his hand, and underneath it, always the same solid, black and silver surface.

Dean looks up to see Castiel focused on doing the same on the other side. The hems of his sleeves are wet and he can see splashes of suds on his tie and trenchcoat.

The sight makes him smile and as he keeps towelling the hood, he walks around the car to get closer to Cas. When he’s within reach he holds out a hand to grab his tie and tug a little at it, forcing him to stop and turn towards him.

Dean uses his thumb to rub the suds on the blue fabric. “You’re gonna need a wash too.” he says.

Castiel looks down at his clothes. “Oh”.

Dean huffs a laugh and lets go of the tie but his hand refuses to retreat and it goes and pokes at the wet spots on Cas’ white shirt, right above his right pec, and all down to his side.

As he does so he looks up at Cas, who is standing like a pillar of salt now, and if Dean didn’t know that he didn’t need to breathe he would have been worried.

He smiles fondly. “You’re a mess.” he says, and the same bold, brave, uncontrolled hand goes to pinch the wet hem of the trenchcoat collar.

It stays there as Cas says, “You are in no better condition” and reaches up, unsure, to brush his fingers in his hair, right above his ear.

Dean follows his eyes, he feels them travelling down his neck and on the front of his tshirt, soaked and sticky on his chest. Cas doesn’t touch though.

Instead, he steps back and looks away. Dean’s hand has to let go of the hem, and he feels a pang of disappointment that surprises him. He hadn’t even realized that he was expecting something.

“About earlier -” starts Cas and from his tone nothing good is coming “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you with that werewolf.”

Dean sighs and gets his legs moving, picks up the bucket and goes over to the sink to empty it and wash out the dirt. He says “Cas, come on, it’s nothing.”

Behind him, he hears Cas say “It’s _not_ nothing. I wish I was -” he sighs. “I wish I could do more. I never seem to be able to help you when it matters.”

Dean closes the tap and turns around. “This must be the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.” he says firmly, “You help me all the time.”

Cas smiles ruefully and his tone drips sarcasm when he says “In the laundry room and the kitchen. Does _that_ matter?”

“Yeah,” he says earnestly. “Look, hunting is our job. Sometimes we can control what goes down, sometimes not. It’s not our fault. But then the curtain falls or whatever you wanna call it and - it’s what’s behind that matters.” He gestures towards the car “This -” he says “you chose to spend your time helping me. This – matters to me.”   
He takes a breath as if he’s trying to say something that just won’t come out. “Cas y- You’re always talking about -” he struggles. He closes his eyes for a moment and Cas is unsure if he should say something. But then Dean starts again, “You want to give me what I need” he says, and it sounds like a question so Cas nods. Dean drops his head and his voice, “and that’s just us.” he manages to say in the end “It’s all I need.”

As soon as he says it, he turns around again.

He doesn’t even wait for a reply, and Cas is too taken aback to give one anyway, and he adds hastly, a little embarrased: “Now, get over here and help me wring out these towels so I can go to bed before dawn, will you.” 

Cas steps foward then, covering the distance in a few strides and stopping right next to him by the sink. Dean hands him one of the towel, their fingers brushing, their eyes meeting. Dean’s smile is a little strained after his little speech but it’s there, cause _this_ \- them, like this, side by side - it feels right. Dean looks back down shaking his head a little, as if he’s regretting something he has done or something he can’t still bring himself to do.

He feels Cas’s gaze studying his profile and tries to relax his face as much as possible. Then he can’t resist and sneaks a look his way that Cas intercepts. They both open their mouths at the same time but nothing comes out.

The case, the hunt, the long drive; the things he can’t say, do, want they all catch up to Dean at once, in that moment. He dumps his towel in the sink and takes a step to the side, crowding Cas’ space. Against him, Cas feels as solid as a statue and Dean wants nothing more than to rest his whole body against his. He feels worn out, he longs for closeness. He searches Cas’ eyes for some kind of warning, a stop sign, an I’m-about-to-flee sign, but there’s none of that. It’s just Cas. Maybe, if he had a breath, Dean thinks he would be holding it, but it’s just Cas.

Part of him knows that there’s something that he should be saying, that one of them should be saying at least, but nothing is said. Maybe it’s their bodies that do the talk for them somehow. Cause one moment Dean wishes very hard to be wrapped in Cas’ arms and the next, there he is. Everything else disappears as he sighs and melts completely in his embrace, his face in the crook of Cas’ neck. He smells like blood and car wash-soap. Cas’ arms hold him as he sinks.

His own hands grip the back of the trenchcoat, and when he moves his head a little so that his lips brush against Cas’ neck he says “Dean” in a breath. It makes him smile.

It doesn’t feel like an event or anything new, really. It feels like letting go. It feels like there was something that they’ve restrained and held back for a long time and now it’s free. Their bodies can naturally crash into each other, right where they were always supposed to be.

Cas slips his fingers through the hair on the back of his neck and presses his cheek against his.

“What are we doing tomorrow?” he asks after a while. 

“I need you to help me stay on the couch all day, how does that sound?”

“It sounds good,” whispers Cas, his hand in his hair.

Dean keeps his eyes closed.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!
> 
> also on tumblr:[here](https://dcforts.tumblr.com/post/624197793280606208/help-the-laundry-room-dean-simply-cannot-sit)


End file.
